


Prompt 01 [John Watson's Father is a Serial Killer]

by greymas



Series: RP Prompts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: But it was a while ago so there shouldn't be tears, Minor Character Death, Plot twiiist, RP Prompt, Serial Killer, Torture, Waterboarding, prompt, shizzle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:51:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2233041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greymas/pseuds/greymas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Its alright, son. I will save you..."</p>
<p>"I can save you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prompt 01 [John Watson's Father is a Serial Killer]

It had all started with a small little case. A woman-- water-boarded, again and again. Resuscitated and then water-boarded again. It seemed that there were slices on her wrists corresponding with the amount of times she had survived. Sherlock and John (16) weren't supposed to know of the case, but Greg was interning at the yard and they caught wind of it through both Mycroft and Greg’s vague conversations (not to mention a pretty heavy drilling of the latter person). John was completely swamped with work and rugby, but Sherlock dragged him along anyways to go chase down one of the suspects. It was a bust, but Sherlock thought that he had gotten somewhat of a lead. John left with a shake of his head and a huff of breath. It was nearly three in the morning, now. He returned home, looking to make some coffee to finish the stacks of paper that were due in four hours. No coffee in the cupboards, however. John frowned and made his way to the basement. Dimly lit, full of stains from the previous owners, creatures crawling around in the dark. He fumbled with his torch and opened the cupboard, grabbing a spare bag of the beans. Upon turning, however, he tripped, landing with a thud on what he had previously thought was concrete. It made a hollow thud, however. Intrigued, he set the coffee aside and pried open the painted wood, revealing a dimly lit staircase. He knew this was a horror-movie scenario, but he descended anyways. Blood, knives, jugs of water and bloodied rags. His eyes widened in horror. And then, darkness. When he came to, the man who stood above him was blurred, but he knew the face well. “Da?” he croaked, struggling against the bonds that held him strapped to the table. Leather, he realized, looking down. His eyes widened once more. “Da-- what are you doing? Please let me go- I’m sorry, I shouldn't have come down here, but I’m your son and-” a hand was clamped over his mouth, struggling against it. His father spoke in a hushed tone, a smile ghosting his lips. “Its alright, son. I will save you. Relax. Your mother couldn't,” he pursed his lips and John’s eyes widened once more. “I couldn't save her that time… but its alright,” his smile turned into a grin, wicked and completely terrifying. “I can save _you_.” Again, and again, and again. The first time was one of the easiest. A towel covered his face and he struggled to throw it off. Water, water. He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe. He tried to, though. Water just entered his lungs and he continued to struggle, tears streaming down his face that he just couldn't control. He blacked out, only to awake to a throbbing headache and a drying face, his father standing over him with a grin and a knife. “You’re doing so well…” he cooed. A mark was created and in turn, a hoarse cry. Again, and again, and _again_. Four morphed into seven, seven morphed into fifteen, fifteen morphed into twenty eight. He didn't even realize when it had stopped. “Please stop,” he managed to slur. “I don’t want to be saved anymore…”


End file.
